All This Time
by ilovemythoroughbred
Summary: All This Time - OneRepublic song fic. Gale's musings on Katniss after Mockingjay, when he's returned to see their woods one last time. Written from Gale's point of view — one shot.


_Six on the second hand_

_Two New Year's resolutions_

_And there's just no question_

_What this man should do_

The rebellion has ended. The bombs have ceased, and every meal is no longer interrupted by the trill of a bomb alert. Underground is now only home for the dead, and a child will never be taken away from everything they've ever known by a stranger with a funny colored wig.

It's a new era, really. Celebrating the new year was never much a tradition in the Districts, considering we were usually more concerned with having enough water than dripping champagne. But, is there a really better time for those silly little glasses then now? Things will be different now, they promise. We have fought, and we have won. What rewards will we reap?

And what about those trivial little resolutions people make? Promises to themselves that this next year, this next period in their lives, will be better. But, how many of them break those pledges in those first months? When does the novelty of a new self wear off? Real motives, real reasons to be and change, those are what drive people to be different. Those are things that drive people to better themselves. Or, rather, the people that drive those who love them.

And what a gorgeous, lovely person she is.

_Take all the time lost_

_All the days that I cost_

_Take what I took and _

_Give it back to you_

What does she think of, when she hears my name? What does she think of, when she passes a sweet gale plant? Is it my face that comes up in her mind? Or is it her dear, sweet Prim that is no more? The parachute — _my_ parachute — that ended her?

What about the times that I lost? Watching her lips as they part slightly in concentration, as she draws her arm back, ready to release her arrow, I am almost there, almost ready to tell her. But, the arrow releases, carves through the air, and the words stick in my throat. I can't say it. I can't do it. I can't tell her.

Days, days, days. Years, even. Each spring marks another year that I missed, lost myself staring, instead of speaking, confessing even.

I harbor all of her secrets, and she knows I would never tell a soul. But, how long will those secrets act as a bridge? We are the continents drifting, pulling apart as time goes on. At what point do I give those secrets back? At what point are they no longer mine to keep? At what point is she no longer … mine?

_All this time_

_We were waiting for each other_

_All this time_

_I was waiting for you_

As long as I can remember, we have been friends. Perhaps a little bit more than friends, that border is something I never gave much thought about. Just two lost, fatherless kids, with families to feed and loneliness to heal, trying to turn a forest into a feast. Time may be a requirement of a relationship, time needed to share secrets, grow together, but we have been together for years.

And really, she was what I was looking for when I stumbled into the woods that day. I might have been starving, with a pitiful ache in my stomach, but I was just as lonesome.

And her, a girl of fourteen. Without a father, and basically without a mother. Lonely, friendless, but not yet helpless. Together, we began to cover each other's backs, become each other's eyes, ears. We grew together.

But now, together is a memory. She is gone, long gone, in the arms of a boy who bakes bread. My squirrels, my meat, the scars on my body, are not enough. I can provide, but not with luxury.

And still, I am in our woods. Against the rock we met at, the rock we argued upon, smiled upon, laughed upon. I am alone, utterly alone. Still, somehow hoping I will see her round the corner, a slight smile beginning to greet me.

_We got all these words_

_Can't waste them on another_

_So I'm straight in a straight line_

_Running back to you_

I have so much to say to her. Unfortunately, I am just as hopeless with words as she is, stumbling over the ones that mean the most, and should be said with a steady gaze and hopeful heart. Maybe it was a mistake to confess about other girls, one of those times in the woods. It's true, though, and it's impossible for me to lie to her.

Either way, all of those were meaningless. There are things I should say, things I need to say to her, that I could not possibly say to anyone else. Words that would mean nothing unless they're said to her.

I have lost any need for distractions. I know desperately what I want, what I crave, what I need. I see no others except for her. And I want to patch up what we lost, recover it, sooner rather than later. I'm walking, but maybe I'll have to start running.

_I don't know what day it is_

_I had to check the paper_

_I don't know the city_

_But it isn't home_

Time flies when you're enjoying yourself, but what about when you're miserable? The days mesh together, and Sundays mean no more than a last day of rest before being trapped in the mines for the rest of the week. And District 12, the Seam, the Hob, is nothing. As you grow older, as you age, you start to realize that you don't identify places by what you did there, or the place itself. You identify it by the people you see, the person you were with. And without them, it is absolutely meaningless. Home becomes nothing other than a place you frequent, a place you are familiar with.

_But you say I'm lucky_

_To love something that loves me_

_But I'm torn as I could be_

_Wherever I roam, hear me say_

At one point, I swore she loved me back. Everyone thought we would get married one day. I would be undeniably proud if she took my last name, but it's a beautiful, lost cause now. I used to think she loved those days in the woods, afternoons in the forest, as much as I did. But, when she stopped appearing, when I stopped bothering to wait for her, I knew it stopped meaning anything to her.

When do I know it's truly gone, though? It seems wrong to slip under the fence, only to roam the forest alone. Somedays it takes me a while, to tear myself away from the rock we met at. I wait, tricking myself that she's just late, that she had to collect herbs for her mother. But, she never comes. She's never there.

I don't even hunt too much, these days. Hazelle understands, knowing that I am half blind out there without _her_ having my back, even if it means less food on the table.

_All this time _

_We were waiting for each other_

_All this time_

_I was waiting for you_

When does the waiting end, the seeing begin? Time has passed, years have passed, and the Girl on Fire doesn't ravage through the forest no more.

Still, I wait.

_Yeah, all running back to you_

_All running back to you, yeah_

I can't deny that she still means something to me. And that I regret the parachute more than anything in the world. I regret it more than anything I could describe in words, or pictures in the dirt. It's one of those things that will haunt me till I die.

_Oh, every time is so far_

_It's just so far_

_To get back to where you are_

Maybe she's changed, maybe she's not who I remember. Maybe the woods are the kingdom of her past, and I am the king of a long, lost empire. And maybe this palace is just too far gone to ever revive.

_All this time_

_We were waiting for each other_

_All this time_

_I was waiting for you_

When will I stop waiting?

When did she stop waiting for me?

_We got all these love_

_Can't waste them on another_

_So I'm straight in a straight line_

_Running back to you_

I don't know if she even thinks of me. I don't know if she even cares, even remembers. But, when will I move on? She has, but my love is uniquely hers. And once upon a time, I thought hers was uniquely mine.

But kingdoms fall, and kings are left in their lonely palace all too often.

_I'm straight in a straight line_

_Running back to you, yeah_

_Straight in a straight line_

_Running back to you_

Maybe — just maybe — one of these days, I'll see her. I'll see her, her hair intricately braided in her signature way, hanging down her shoulder sophisticatedly yet so powerfully. Maybe she'll see me first, or I'll see her first, and she'll run to me just like I'll run to her. And I'll take my father's ring that I keep in my pocket, and I'll slip it on her finger. And she'll look at me, she'll ask why, but she won't argue. Because she knows that all this time, I have been waiting for her. And I ran all this way, through all this time, to prove that to her.


End file.
